Silver Blood and Luck
by monkeyCsaw
Summary: "I remember being held as though I were something precious and fragile and special. I remember faint humming and voices and warm, strong arms lifting me higher, higher, higher until I swore I could touch the sky."
1. Chapter 1

Summary: "I remember being held as though I were something precious and fragile and special. I remember faint humming and voices and warm, strong arms lifting me higher, higher, higher until I swore I could touch the sky."

AN: I've done it, I've committed the ultimate sin. A self-insert. I apologize ahead of time. Anyway, here's chapter 1, tell me if it's any good pls and thx. I love AyamexKakashi despite the age difference so there, live with it. Btw, this is monkeyCsaw but you can just call me Monkey. I live for reviews (not really but I do appreciate them very much). Much love, enjoy.

* * *

"I give you this to take with you:

Nothing remains as it was. If you know this, you can

begin again, with pure joy in the uprooting."

-Judith Minty, _Letters to My Daughters_

* * *

**Chapter 1**

I remember that everything was quiet, warm and comforting, and then all at once, noise burst in upon me like light in a cave. The world was a blur but people were yelling and machines were beeping and I was handled and moved against my will like some doll.

I wasn't too far off with that idea.

I remember being held as though I were something precious and fragile and _special._ I remember faint humming and voices and warm, strong arms lifting me higher, higher, higher until I swore I could touch the sky.

It took me a while to work out what was happening. My memories were blurry and my thoughts and instincts were vague and raw in a way I had never experienced. I remember being very cold and very alone before I slipped into the warm quiet place.

And then I was out and everything was too much. Too bright, too loud, too cold, too _frightening_. A baby was crying and it took me a few minutes to connect the wailing with my own open mouth and vibrating vocal chords.

At one year old, I was able to observe enough of my surroundings to know that I had entered a horrifically dangerous world. The Naruto universe.

Just my luck.

My mother was a gentle woman, kind and caring and warm. When I managed to puzzle out her name, I could have laughed. Ayame. And my father? The one and only Kakashi Hatake.

Yeah, I was a little surprised.

I managed to figure out that I had been born a year after the Fourth Shinobi War. Naruto and all his teammates and friends were much older than me and weren't as prone to attracting trouble as they had been. Naruto was training to be Hokage. Sakura was the second in command at the hospital. Sasuke was a high level jonin. He'd worked hard to earn back the favor of his home village. And my father was just a regular jonin, going on missions and advising the Hokage in times of need.

The first five years of my life were spent learning to speak and walk and run all over again. I was fascinated by the legends of the tailed beasts and I could spend hours upon hours reading the tales of various famous ninja. When I thought hard, I could remember bits and pieces of my past life. I remember that I was often cold and hungry. I remember little kindness. Even now, reborn (how strange to say it), I was a bitter child. I was quiet, obedient, and very sharp.

I noticed the bloodstains on my father's flak vest that did not come from him. I saw the way my mother's knuckles turned white when someone knocked on the door while Kakashi was gone. There were nights she did not sleep, spending the night cooking and cleaning. I would wake up at four in the morning to the smell of miso soup. When I tip-toed downstairs to watch, I would see the way she sighed and cut the vegetables a bit too roughly. My mother was a worrier and for all her calmness in everyday life, the nights were her enemy when my father was gone on missions. And that was often.

At the age of six, I visited my father in the hospital for the first time. He had bandages wrapped around his torso and that damn mask looked a little stained but other than that he just seemed _tired._ My mother bit her lip and squeezed his hand hard enough to crack some bones. I asked innocently if he would be alright and he smiled at me, chuckled a little, and said it would take more than a stray kunai to take him out of the game. I read my new book to him for a couple of hours and then went home with my mother. I pretended not to notice the dried blood on her lip or the strained paleness of her face. She slept with me that night. Kakashi came home four days later.

At the age of five and a half, I was enrolled in the Academy by my hesitant and, of course, worried mother. I soared through reading and writing and mathematics. Geography was a breeze. Things just seemed so simple, so _easy_ to me. I could remember everything I read or heard with ease.

I manipulated my chakra with wonder. My classmates were all used to it – chakra was as natural to them as breathing – but I was constantly delighted with the things I could do. It was a new power to me, something frightening and strong. My chakra control was excellent, though my chakra reserves were only average.

On the first day of what would be a long, sweat-filled, pain inducing taijutsu class, I tried to remember if I had been anywhere near physically fit in my past life. I remembered moving a lot. But nothing could have prepared me for the work ahead of me. I was dead-last. It was embarrassing, really, how awful I was at the physical stuff. I told myself that I would get better, that I was Kakashi Hatake's daughter for Kami's sake, that it would just take a little more hard work and dedication than usual. Eventually, I did manage to work my way up and it wasn't until it had been one hard, long, positively grueling year of physical education that I realized something that made me want to smack myself upside the head.

My classmates were enhancing themselves with chakra. Running, jumping, punching, all of that, was fueled by their chakra. It was automatic for them. But for me, it would take a conscious effort. But that didn't mean I would start following their lead. I realized what a good idea it was to continue to train like a mere mortal would. When I did pump chakra through my system, I would be twice as fast and strong. So I remained average in my physical education.

As I grew and learned, my father stayed home more, much to the delight of my mother. He was a quiet, detached man, but he loved me, in a way only he could. When I begged for a story, he submitted after much groaning and sighing. When I woke up at three in the morning, terrified of phantom shinobi and mysterious black beasts, he held me tight against his side. When I was six, I fell from a tree in our backyard while playing with a friend. He was at my side in a literal flash, and though my only injury was a bruised tailbone, the worry in his eyes did not go away for a few hours.

At seven, I relished the chakra control techniques and exercises my father showed me. I enjoyed the gasps my classmates gave when I performed an impressive feat. I was a bit of a showoff, even had a bit of a superiority complex. Like father like daughter.

My only friend was Fukui Aniko. Sure, I got along fine with my classmates, but I barely registered their presence. I was a cold child, strange and unsociable outside of my family. Aniko just didn't care that I occasionally snapped at her or would rather spend time with my father than her. It was her complete lack of vanity, of self-consciousness that endeared her so much to me. When I was angry or upset, her first thoughts were never that it was directed towards her. She was the most selfless person I had ever met. She would give up a whole day just to sit in my room reading with me if I didn't feel like being alone that day. Aniko wasn't like me; she had plenty of friends she could hang out with and play with. But she chose me. She seemed to actually like that I was somewhat detached, that I was sometimes completely apathetic towards the world and could not be bothered to get up out of bed. It wasn't that I was _lazy_. As a ninja, laziness can be fatal (Shikamaru was an exception). I just didn't _care_ sometimes. Many of my classmates would die before reaching the age 20. I would likely lose at least one team member. My sensei would probably have to watch me die a horrible death. These were just facts of the shinobi world. I would fight to protect my village because I lived here and my mother needed protection. I would fight for Aniko because she _cared_ even when I didn't and she gave and gave when there was nothing I wanted. But that was it. I didn't want to be a shinobi because of any delusions of grandeur or world altering events I would be a part of. It was simply the logical step. I was Kakashi Hatake's daughter. To be a civilian was unthinkable.

And so the first years of my new life passed. I grew stronger, quicker, sharper. I worried my mother and amused my father with our striking similarities (I had just so happened to also inherit his spiky silver hair. Yay me). I became powerful in my own way. Ready to take on this dangerous, thrilling world. I lived for the fight, for the proof that I was good at what I did, that I was more than just average. I wanted to be _special._

Except in the Naruto world, being special is very, very dangerous.


	2. Chapter 2

AN: Hello again, quick update, don't get used to it heh. Here is chapter 2, please enjoy. Longer, but hopefully better. (Update: I made a mistake and uploaded the wrong chapter to the wrong story! Sorry if there was any confusion!)

* * *

"Begin, be bold, and venture to be wise."

-Horace

* * *

**Chapter 2**

I woke up the day of my graduation test well rested, well prepared, and not at all anxious. My mother was a mess, spilling tea and trying to still her trembling hands. My father said nothing, ruffling my hair affectionately as I passed him on the way out. The simple touch communicated everything he needed to say. _I'm proud of you, do your best, I love you_. My mother gave me a nervous kiss on the cheek and gripped my father tightly as I walked away, turning back once to wave at my parents.

I couldn't remember my past parents. Part of me wondered if I'd even had any. As far as I was concerned, Ayame and Kakashi were my only parents. They had raised me, loved me, trained me. They were the only family I had ever known. I was perfectly okay with that. There were worse families to be born into.

I met Aniko at the end of my street. She was bouncing on the balls of her feet, a bundle of nervous energy to negate my calm demeanor.

"Morning, Mitsuki!" she crowed, falling into step beside me.

"Did you continue working on your taijutsu after I left yesterday?" I asked. She nodded and began babbling about finally perfecting her jump double roundhouse kick. I listened with fond weariness.

Aniko was a proficient kunoichi. She could name the deadliest poisons and their antidotes in her sleep. Lords of distant lands knew less about their history than she did. Where I had failed in my special kunoichi classes, which happened to be dreadfully boring, she had excelled. Her ninjutsu was nothing to sneeze at. Physically, she had always kept up well and even succeeded in surpassing many of our talented, clan-born classmates. With a flutter of her dark eyelashes and a curve of her pink lips, she could have any boy wrapped around her little finger. She was intelligent, cheerful, a real people person. She made friends quicker than powerful shinobi made enemies.

But if there was one chink in her armor, it was her taijutsu. She wasn't _awful_ per se, just not a natural at it. She didn't understand the nuances, couldn't get her body to perform the moves as naturally as I could. She was more prone to dodging and blocking than actually doing anything offensive. She was somewhat slow and her kicks were sloppy. But she wasn't dead last. With a little more training, she'd be more than good enough. Distantly, I wondered what she would do if she ran into enemy shinobi and had to fight in close quarters, one on one. It wasn't like she could tell stories and braid their hair until back up arrived. There was no Iruka-sensei to stop the fight. Her skill and strength had to be good enough to ensure her survival.

We arrived at the Academy and we paused for a moment. I was contemplating how this would be the last time I came here as a student. Aniko was looking at it as though she expected it to grow claws and attempt to eviscerate her. I wasn't good with people and emotions. If someone was crying in front of me, I'd probably back away slowly and get the hell out of there before trying to comfort them. But seeing my friend, my _only_ friend so nervous and scared, I felt a stab of sympathy.

"Hey," I said softly, bumping my shoulder against hers. "You're going to do great. Remember what we went over yesterday."

She flashed me a shaky smile before lifting her chin and barreling forward. I resisted the urge to laugh at the determined line of her shoulders and positively fierce glint in her eyes. Aniko never failed to surprise or amuse me.

I followed her, eyeing my classmates who were all in different stages of nerves. Some were staring blankly at the wall and others were shaking so bad I think knocking them out would have been a kind alternative to the hell they were living.

The test was a piece of cake. I passed with ease. Iruka-sensei smiled down at me proudly as I tied the hitai-ate in my hair and I held my head high. I allowed myself to smile, to feel proud of what I had accomplished. Standing there with my hitai-ate tied and my classmates cheering and whooping was the proudest moment of my life.

My parents were waiting for me outside the Academy when I was finished. I had no doubt my father had watched the entire thing with all the stealth of a previous ANBU captain. My mother smiled at me with tears in her eyes and she hugged me tight. I turned to my father and he smiled down at me before saying simply, "That handspring could use some work."

A week later I was back for team assignment. I noted the placement of Aniko's hitai-ate around her waist. She hadn't changed her standard attire, like some children did after becoming genin. Her black hair still fell around her shoulders, clad in an off shoulder, grey dress that reached her thigh. Her boots were still black and thigh-high. The only new additions were her gloves, black and fingerless, no doubt a gift from her parents for graduating. Her fingernails were painted her favorite color, blue, and for a split second I hoped she would never change.

I myself hadn't changed either. I still wore the same sleeveless, short black top and black skirt over a fishnet shirt and leggings. My boots were a little past mid-calf and my gloves were black, fingerless, and had a plate of armor over the top. My hair was tied up in its usual ponytail with two long strands of hair framing my pale face. My parents had given me elbow guards and black studs for my ears. I wore them proudly.

I watched as Aniko was placed on a team with the Sarutobi boy, a quiet, talented kid and a Yamanaka boy as well. The Yamanaka's blonde hair was a bright contrast to Aniko's black hair.

I waited patiently for my name to be called. And when it was, I was surprised to find that I didn't mind the team placement.

"Hatake Mituski, Hyuuga Kazuho, and Nakano Atsushi. You will be on Team 6."

I gathered with my new teammates in a corner of the classroom, staying quiet while Atsushi babbled about how awesome our team was and how were going to defeat every single enemy of the village. He was amusing, if foolish.

Nakano Atsushi was a civilian-born. His wild red hair matched his rather feral personality. He could have been an Inuzuka, really. He had quite the endurance and Iruka-sensei was always muttering about him being "another Naruto". He was predictable in his unpredictability. He was skilled in trap-making and his taijutsu was…well, it was different, that's for sure.

Hyuuga Kazuho was hailed a prodigy. His taijutsu was top notch, his ninjutsu was something to be envied and his mind was sharp and clear. He was a quiet boy, shy and timid. He had none of the Hyuuga arrogance or aristocratic air. Personally, I always thought he was too tame to be a ninja. He was always holding back, always unsure of making that final blow. I wondered what he would do if it came down to killing someone. Would he be able to do the deed? Or would he rather fail the mission?

"And that's all the teams." I snapped back to Iruka-sensei, who was smiling at us. "Your jonin instructors will meet you here after lunch. Good luck."

I turned to look at my new teammates, who eyed me as though I were an animal about to charge._ I may not be friendly, but I'm not that bad am I? _

This would not do for team cohesion. "Should we eat together?" I asked. They exchanged glances before Atsushi threw me a wild grin, falling down into a seat like he lived there.

"I don't see a problem with that. You, Kazuho?"

The black haired Hyuuga shook his head sat down as well, taking a bento from his desk. I joined them, and we ate our lunches in quiet comradeship.

Ten minutes after our lunch had ended, when almost all of our classmates were gone, our sensei finally appeared. I nearly laughed.

Kiba, followed by his loyal companion, entered the room, grinning to reveal sharp canines. "Team 6, you're with me," he called and we moved forward obediently, Atsushi practically sprinting for the door.

Our sensei led us to a training ground, remaining quiet, not even asking us to introduce ourselves. I wondered what he thought of our files and reports. I wondered what he was doing. But most of all, I wondered how his dog smelled so _clean_.

When we reached the training ground, he turned, clapped his hands, and yelled, "Begin!"

I was in the air before I knew what was happening. I could see Kazuho struggling in Kiba's arms, a kunai held to his throat. I realized, with the clarity of one who has achieved Nirvana, that our sensei was insane.

Atsushi flung kunai at him, which were easily deflected, while bellowing, "Let him go!"

"Atsushi!" I yelled, landing by his right side. "You might hit Kazuho, stop. We need to think about this."

"Think? How can you say that when he's got Kazuho?"

I rolled my eyes and bit back a sigh of exasperation. Honestly, some boys were just so _dense_. "Our mission is the get Kazuho back unharmed. We need to work together on this."

Atsushi growled, pocketing his kunai. "Alright, what do we do?"

_Good question_, I thought dryly. We were two newly graduated genin up against an experienced jonin. We also couldn't forget the huge white dog crouched in front of Kazuho, baring his teeth at us. But more than that, what was the point of this? What was Kiba-sensei trying to teach us?

"Come and get him," Kiba snickered and I shot him a glare. I was beginning to get frantic. Not only did I not have a plan, I had no way of communicating it to either of my teammates. Kiba would be able to hear me whispering. He recognized hand signs, of course. And we were still all very unfamiliar with each other's style and way of thinking.

I snapped to attention. _Alright, well, I got nothing else so here I go_.

"Akamaru!" I yelled, holding up a stick. The dog raised his head. "Fetch!" I tossed it past Kiba-sensei's shoulder, making hand signs as I did. As expected, the dog didn't twitch and Kiba burst into laughter.

"You really think Akamaru would fall for tha – what the hell?!"

"Replacement jutsu!" I crowed, wrapping an arm around sensei's neck and holding a kunai to his throat.

"Where did you learn that?" he asked and I could hear the grin in his voice.

"My dad likes to teach me new tricks every once in a while."

"Kakashi, you bastard," Kiba laughed. Akamaru yipped and Kiba nodded, careful not to push against the edge of my kunai.

"Alright," he said and Kazuho stumbled forward, released. I slid back, staying in a ready position, the kunai held loosely in my hand. Kiba held his hands up, grinning at me over his shoulder.

"Don't worry, kid, I was just testing ya," he said. "And you all passed, so good job. Now put the kunai away and let's introduce ourselves."

I didn't pocket the kunai. I kept it in my hand as I walked over to my teammates, sitting down in the middle of them. Kazuho's eyes were still very wide and Atsushi's brow was furrowed.

"So," he muttered. "That was just a test?"

"Of course," Kiba drawled. "I would never actually hurt one of you whelps. Unless you deserved it," and he winked at Akamaru, who wagged his tail. The big white dog came and rest his head in Kazuho's lap, tongue lolling out, practically begging for a scratch. Kazuho smiled timidly, shakily, before rubbing the dog's head, turning his attention back to our sensei.

"Now, there were a few flaws, but that's why you're going to train," Kiba began, sprawling out on the grass, propping his head up with his hand so he could look at us.

"Atsushi, you didn't take the time to think of a strategy. Your first instinct was to chuck kunai at me and hope for the best, not smart. Mitsuki, you relied on yourself alone. You didn't even give Atsushi a role in your little plan. If you'd had a good plan, he would have been a part of it. Now, that replacement jutsu caught me by surprise, granted, but you stood a much better chance coming at me as a team from both sides. Kazuho, your fault lay in your passivity. You had a kunai in your hand but you refused to use it. Why? I may be a jonin but pain still affects me."

I glanced at Kazuho, eyebrow raised. I hadn't even noticed that he'd had a kunai out. "Why didn't you use the kunai?" I asked, trying to sound calm and not at all accusatory.

"Well," Kazuho murmured, keeping his eyes trained on Akamaru, "I didn't want to hurt him because he's our sensei and from our village. It just seemed wrong."

"If your life was at stake, you would have been dead," I said without inflection. I turned my head forward, staring at the trees in the distance. "Your life was in danger. And because you were in danger, your teammates were in danger. If our sensei really had been crazy, you would be dead. You can't let weak sentiments get in the way of your duty. Shinobi don't let attachments stop the kill. Shinobi don't let emotions halt the kunai. We are killers. We train to kill. Get used to it."

I looked at Kazuho then. His lavender eyes were wide and he looked somewhat horrified. "Injury is a reality of the shinobi world. So is death. If you can't handle that, you aren't cut out to be a shinobi."

"That's enough," Kiba-sensei cut in, his voice low and dangerous. I blinked at him, startled by his interruption. I was educating my teammate. Surely that was a good thing?

The Inuzuka stood, stretching his arms over his head. "Yeah, shinobi life ain't some grand adventure, but there's more to us than killing. You guys will learn, so don't worry about it right now."

And that was that. He wasn't eloquent or poetic in anyway. Kiba-sensei was direct, to the point. He didn't beat around the bush. I almost smiled.

"Alright," he said, grinning much too devilishly for my liking. "It's time to train."

Seven hours, ten laps around the village, and five rounds of sparring later, I stumbled through the front door of my home, inhaling the delicious aroma of food. My father took one look at me and I could swear he _snickered_.

"Rough day?" he asked with barely concealed glee. I glared at him. Of course he'd known who my sensei would be. Of course he had an idea of what I would be put through. Of course.

"Thanks for the warning," I muttered as I shuffled past him, almost groaning at how sore my legs were. I hadn't had such an intense workout in _years_. Kami help me if the rest of the week's training was just as difficult.

Ayame brightened when she saw me, hugging me close. "Tell me all about your sensei and your day, I want to know everything."

After dinner, I jogged over to Aniko's place. She opened the door with a bright smile. I waved hello to her parents before she whisked me away to her room.

Aniko's room hadn't changed much in the years we'd known each other. It was painted a light green and it was always, and I mean _always_, messy. Right now, there were clothes strewn over her bed and her mission pack was on the floor, open and emptied on her floor.

I gingerly stepped over the stray kunai and shuriken, making my way to the bed. Aniko shoved the clothes off without a care and sat down across from me, putting her chin in her hand.

We chatted about our sensei, our teammates, our days. Her sensei wasn't nearly as grueling as Kiba-sensei (who took an inhuman pleasure in our pain). But it had been tough in its own way.

"Mitsuki," she said in a markedly calm, quiet voice. I arched an eyebrow. Her eyes were focused downward and she played with the grey blanket, fingers twisting and pulling. She seemed oddly…subdued.

"Yes?" I asked, warily now. When Aniko got like this, which was not often, she could say some pretty weird things.

"How long do you think we're going to last?"

I blinked. And blinked again. I opened my mouth to speak. And then I shut it before a sound could come out. What could I say? _The chances of us surviving are equal to those of a stray cat in the Inuzuka compound._

_We're just kids, of course we won't survive. _

_We're too young. _

_We're not going to last._

Instead, I gave her a rare smile, a genuine, warm one. I put my hand on her shoulder and squeezed. "Our sensei and teammates will be there, don't worry. And we're strong enough to take on anything in our way."

Maybe it wasn't the truth. Maybe I should've told her my honest opinion. But that wasn't what she wanted. She wanted to be comforted and I just _had_ to give her that.

And it worked. She grinned at me and in a flash she was the Aniko I had always known. "Of course," she crowed, tossing her head. "We're gonna kick some major butt out there!"

Later that night, I stared up at my ceiling in the dark and thought about her question. How long _would_ we last? How long did I have with my teammates, with my parents, with Aniko?

There were, of course, no answers.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3 whoooo. So I've decided this is going to be a super short story, like 5 chapters maybe. I'm lazy, what can I say. Here you goooo, review pls!

**edit: I keep uploading the chapters for another story to this one! Sorry I'm an idiot here's the real chapter heh ^.^'**

* * *

"Be kind, for everyone you meet is fighting a harder battle."

~Plato

* * *

**Chapter 3**

Sweat poured down my face. I didn't bother to wipe at it, focusing instead on my target.

_How can a damn old cat move so fast? _I asked myself for the hundredth time that day.

"I'm in position, over." Atsushi's voice crackled loudly over the piece in my ear and I winced. Did he really have to be so enthusiastic? Kazuho's quiet voice came next, affirming his location and I sucked in a deep breath.

"Move!" Kiba-sensei ordered and I was on top of the cat in a flash. Atsushi and Kazuho watched me struggle sympathetically, both crouched in defensive positions, wincing as the yowling cat scored its claws across my forearm.

"This cat," I muttered through gritted teeth and for the first time in my eleven years I wanted to kill something. This was the fifth retrieval mission we'd been sent on in just as many days, all for the same damn cat. "Honestly, if it keeps running away, you'd think the owner would get the idea," I huffed, tightening my grip around it as it struggled.

Kiba-sensei was looking at the cat with a look of disgust, his sensitive nose twitching. "Right, get it back to the house, I'll meet you at the mission center." He was gone in a whirl of leaves and wind.

"Figures," Atsushi muttered and Kazuho shrugged. We fell into step as we made our way through the village, me in the middle, the boys flanking me like bodyguards. Small, unthreatening bodyguards, but bodyguards all the same.

"You know how sensei is around cats. Plus, he's been on edge since Akamaru got sick," Kazuho said and I hummed agreement.

We had been training for a month and doing D-level missions for two weeks. The training hadn't gotten any easier. If anything, it was even more taxing and exhausting on top of all our missions. The missions themselves were simple enough. Delivering bread, messages, groceries, chasing lost pets, the works. But doing at least five a day on top of training in the morning and late afternoon was wearing me down. Kiba-sensei was a slave-driver.

We dropped the cat off amidst grateful tears and heart wrenching sobs. I let the boys handle the talking. I just seemed to tick people off most of the time. I didn't really understand why. All I did was mention how they could've done the mission themselves instead of hiring ninja. Really, it would save them money. After three angry customers cut our pay and one particularly crabby old lady shooed us away with a broom, Atsushi had suggested they do the talking. I agreed.

I examined my arms, glad to see that the cuts were shallow; they stung a bit but at this point, I was used to it. A quick pass of my palm covered in a green light and they were gone. For some reason, the boys had gotten it into their heads that I was better at handling the cat, so I was the one assigned to actually grabbing it.

Atsushi attempted to get us to stop for ramen at Ichiraku's for lunch and I was sorely tempted. I got a discount and my grandfather was always happy to see me. But I dragged him forward with a smiling Kazuho behind us, reminding him that we had a mission report to fill out and a sensei to meet. Atsushi pouted the whole way there but got over it the moment he saw Kiba-sensei with Akamaru.

"Akamaru!" Atsushi called and the big white dog yipped, trotting forward to meet us. I pat his head affectionately and looked up at our sensei.

"He's all better now. And I figured it was time for you guys to graduate to a C-level mission," Kiba said with his wild grin.

I barely covered my ears in time. Atsushi let out a loud whoop and without checking to see if any of us were coming, he was sprinting for the mission center. I exchanged exasperated looks with sensei and Kazuho.

When we caught up with Atsushi, we dragged him away to fill out our mission reports first. We handed our reports over to Kazuho when we were done. He had a knack for remembering little details we sometimes forgot. When he was done looking over all of ours, we turned them in and waited to receive our first C-level mission.

"Alright brats," Lady Tsunade drawled. "There's a daimyo and his family who wish to be escorted back to their city. Think you can handle it?"

Atsushi was practically exploding and Kazuho looked rather frightened of the powerful woman so I sighed, stepped forward, and took the scroll.

"We won't let you down, Hokage-sama," I said, bowing respectfully.

Once outside, Atsushi let out a positively feminine squeal before racing off the pack his mission bag. I sighed, shook my head, and read over the scroll.

"It says we'll be gone at least a week and we'll be leaving in two hours," I read and Kiba-sensei nodded.

"Go pack, whelps, and someone check on Atsushi and make sure he gets everything."

Kazuho set off for the Hyuuga compound and because Atsushi lived rather close to me, I set off after my idiot teammate.

I knocked on his bare wooden door, shifting uneasily. The grass on the lawn was overgrown and the gate was hanging off its hinges. I heard yelling and I swallowed thickly. I hadn't met his parents before and I wasn't exactly the outgoing, gregarious type parents seemed to like.

The door banged open and I blinked up at a rather fat middle aged man dressed in stained overalls and clutching a beer like it was his lifeline.

"Uh," I stuttered intelligently, wondering if I'd gotten the wrong house somehow.

"Whaddya want girl?" the man asked in a hoarse voice.

"I'm looking for my teammate, Atsushi. I'm here to help him pack for our mission," I said, straightening and composing myself.

The man sneered. "Well if it ain't one o' the boy's sha-no-bi friends," he laughed, soon deteriorating into a hacking cough. "Come in, he's in his room doing Kami knows what."

I strode in quietly, trying to hide just how disgruntled I felt. The house was small, cramped, and dirty. A thin red haired woman poked her head out of the kitchen, walking out to reveal a baby on her hip. The child was maybe five years old, with a wild mane of red hair and big brown eyes. She was the little girl version of Atsushi, basically.

"Who's this?" the woman asked in a voice devoid of emotion.

I struggled to maintain my calm, composed façade. "I'm Mitsuki, Atsushi's teammate. We're going on a mis-"

She flapped her hand at me, retreating back into the kitchen where something foul-smelling was cooking. "Whatever, just make sure the boy doesn't do anything stupid. We don't have the money to fix all his mistakes."

I scampered down the hall, following Atsushi's chakra signature. I stepped into his small room quietly, closing the door behind me.

Atsushi was shoving clothes into his bag, muttering things beneath his breath. I cleared my throat and raised my hand in a wave when he looked up.

"Sensei sent me to help," I explained. Atsushi grinned and motioned for me to join him. I did so, taking in my surroundings as I did.

Atsushi's bed was low and shoved into a corner. Beside it was a dresser, the surface packed with kunai and shuriken. On the bed was a thin blanket and a single yellow pillow that was probably riddled with bed bugs. I kneeled on the floor beside Atsushi, attempting to hide my thoughts with a small, forced smile.

"Did you remember wire for traps?" I asked, digging through his bag and reorganizing it so he could actually find things when he needed to. His eyes went wide and he scrambled underneath his bed for a bit for drawing out a length of shining ninja wire.

We chatted comfortably as we packed, about our missions and Kiba-sensei and fighting techniques. When the packing was done, I invited him to my house so we could leave for the gates together. He agreed eagerly, perhaps too eagerly, and I followed him out to the front door.

We were almost to the front door when his father, or the man I was guessing was his father, interrupted us. "Hey, boy, where d'ya think you're goin'?"

Atsushi turned, grimacing. "On a mission. I should be back by the middle of next week."

"Make sure ya bring back some more money, ya haven't bin makin' enough with the stupid missions ya been on lately," the man groused.

I prickled. _How much money have you been making, then?_ I wanted to challenge. I held my tongue and decided to let Atsushi handle it.

"I'll get paid better for this one," Atsushi promised quietly. The man came closer to us and I noticed the way Atsushi tensed. His foot slid to the side ever so subtly and suddenly his shoulder was in front of me. I blinked, realizing that my teammate had gone into an almost defensive position. Mildly offended, I leaned against the wall beside him, shooting him a glare he didn't see.

"An' bring back your friend," the man snickered, leering at me with yellow teeth. I snapped my attention back to him, eyes narrowing. My hand twitched and there was a kunai in my fingers. "She's too pretty to have all to yourself."

"You miserable shit of an ant," I growled and I was moving before I even knew I was angry. My kunai pressed against his neck and I looked into his sweating, dirty face with nothing but disgust. "Don't you dare ever touch me or talk about me like that ever again." I pressed the kunai harder, pricking his skin, drawing the smallest drop of blood.

"Ah, Mitsuki, maybe we should go," my teammate said nervously, opening the door.

"I will gut you," I threatened in a low voice before backing off, turning and leaving without a look back to see the terror on my victim's face. It felt strangely refreshing, being the source of fear on a grown man's face. I was rather proud of myself.

We walked in silence for a little before I asked, "Is he always like that?"

Atsushi nodded, rubbing the back of his head with his hand. "I woulda warned you but I didn't know you were coming."

"You make all the money for your family?"

"Yeah," he mumbled, ducking his head, embarrassed. "Just forget it, alright? We get along fine."

I seriously doubted that but I dropped it, choosing to think instead. I wondered if Atsushi had ever been hit. I saw, with startling clarity, his pride on graduation day, his excitement when we were paid for our missions. It made sense now. Of course he'd been excited, the money meant more food for his family. I threw him a sidelong glance and almost smiled. He was walking with the biggest smile on his face, raising his face so the sun could warm it. He was always so upbeat, so _bright_. And every day he went home to that. I felt something in me soften. Not a lot, it wasn't a dramatic change. But when he glanced over at me, I smiled back instead of looking away.

I was almost embarrassed to let him into my house. My mother hugged me tight and gushed over my teammate, offering him enough food to last him through winter. My bag was already packed so I just checked it and brought it downstairs. My father was waiting for me at the foot of the stairs.

"Mission?" he asked.

"C-rank," I answered, shrugging. "I'll be back in a week."

"Your mother isn't going to like this. I leave tomorrow."

I felt my gut lurch as it always did when he mentioned a mission. My father always took A-ranked missions and he was always gone at least two weeks. As I grew older and more aware of the risks of his missions, I grew more nervous each time he left. It felt as though he were tempting fate each mission he accepted and that one day, his luck would run out.

He reached out a hand and ruffled my hair. "Don't worry about me, little moon," he murmured, eyes wrinkling in a smile. I felt myself warm at the familiar nickname. "Be safe out there, alright?"

"Always," I chirped, trying to sound more confident than I felt. My father wasn't one for physical affection but I still wrapped my arms around him and gave him a tight hug. It was our ritual, for whenever he went on missions. Now, I wouldn't be able to do it every time. I felt as though something had ended, closed. When I let go, some piece of me was going to fall away and I would never get it back. What was it? My childhood? Innocence? No, nothing so dramatic. I think it was the comfort, the surety of our ceremony. One day, I may not give him a hug and he may not come back.

I squeezed him one last time before releasing my father, smiling up at him. "Come meet my teammate," I said, gesturing towards the kitchen where Atsushi was probably wondering how in the world he was going to eat all the food my mother was offering him.

I almost laughed at the sight I found myself confronted by. Atsushi was staring helplessly at the absolutely massive platter my mom had set before him, fumbling over his words as he tried to explain that no really, he was fine, she didn't have to do all of this.

My father chuckled leaning against the doorway.

"So," he drawled and I stiffened. _Here it comes._ "If it isn't my daughter's cute little teammate."

"Dad," I warned but it was too late. He was staring at Atsushi like a hawk may stare at a mouse.

The kitchen suddenly got very quiet. He loomed over my teammate, single eye wide as he stared him down. The room filled with intent, not killing intent, but definitely intent. "Do you promise to protect my daughter at the cost of your life?"

Atsushi's eyes darted back and forth between me and him. I shrugged helplessly and Atsushi opened and closed his mouth like a fish out of water.

"U-u-uh yes of c-c-course, sir," he finally managed to stammer out. My father relaxed, leaning once more against the doorway.

"Good answer," he said warmly. My mother rolled her eyes.

"Leave him alone, Kakashi, he's only a genin," she sighed. We chatted for a bit and then I hauled my bag onto my shoulder and gave my mother a hug.

"I'll be back next week, okay?"

She smiled down at me, nodding jerkily. It was only a C-rank but even then. Accidents happen. Things change. I could be wounded or lost even. And now she had two of us to worry about. She gripped me tightly, squeezing me as though this would be her last hug. And it might be. We never knew.

"Your team should have dinner here when you're back, to celebrate," she offered shakily.

I winced inwardly. "Sure, Mom," I answered, trying to sound somewhat enthusiastic. I wasn't sure how a dinner would go with the loud Atsushi and mild Kazuho and, well, me, awkward as ever around people.

I released her, waved one last time at my father, and walked out with Atsushi, trying to look strong. To look like someone who would survive a few years yet of the shinobi life.

We met the rest of our team at the gates where the daimyo and his family were waiting in their caravan. He had two young sons who looked at us with wonder and a pretty wife who thanked us over and over again. Kiba-sensei assigned us our spots and we were off.

We traveled at a leisurely pace. The two sons liked to march at the boys' sides, playing ninja and peppering them with questions. I stayed at the back, scanning the forest for any threats, whether it be bandits or wildlife. After a couple hours of this, I began to grow bored. There were only so many trees you could see before you felt as though you'd seen them all. We rotated and half way into my new position I felt something tug at my sleeve.

I looked down, frowning at the messy haired boy. "Miss, I need to pee," he said plaintively. I threw Atsushi a desperate look and he raised his hands innocently.

"All yours," he said cheerfully.

We halted the caravan and I followed the boy into the woods, turning my back when he pulled down his pants. I waited a few minutes and turned around to find him staring fixedly at a spot in the brush, pants still down.

"There's a man over there," he whispered and I had to quell the urge to jerk upright and throw a kunai. I blinked instead and my muscles tensed. We weren't far from the caravan, still within sight. If I stayed still long enough, one of the boys would come to see what was wrong. But still, if there was an enemy, I should neutralize it as soon as possible. I glanced down at the unsuspecting boy, who smiled up at me with a couple missing teeth. I couldn't leave him unguarded, even for a second, but I couldn't fight if he was close to me. I wasn't sensing any chakra, so I guessed the man had to be a bandit of some sorts or a common thief. A stupid one, if he thought he could take on a ninja.

"I can help you with that," I answered cheerfully, pulling up his pants for him. He blinked up at me, confused, and I prayed he wouldn't say anything that would give me away. Without looking and without so much as blinking, I threw a kunai right in the middle of the spot and leaped away, sprinting for the caravan, boy in my arms. Kiba-sensei passed me in a flash, Akamaru following with teeth bared, and Kazuho caught the boy as I tossed him.

"Positions," I barked and we all settled into our defensive stances. The daimyo and his family remained quiet, just as we had instructed them.

I watched as sensei began to walk back, relaxing slightly at his unhurried pace. He waved at us, leaning against the caravan so the family could hear as well. "Nothing there, not even a scent."

I released my breath and nodded. I wasn't embarrassed or angry with myself. I was glad I had been wrong and I was glad it had just been the boy's imagination. Atsushi sighed, disappointed and Kazuho simply pocketed his kunai, hands trembling ever so slightly.

"Let's continue," Kiba-sensei said, taking up his position at the back once more. I led, and the boys flanked, Kazuho to the left and Atsushi to the right. I could hear the boys starting their games again and the woman chatting quietly with her husband. Everything was fine, safe, normal.

Until the ground exploded beneath my feet and sent me hurtling through the air.


	4. Chapter 4

Second to last chapter! Enjoy!

* * *

"Killing is not so easy as the innocent believe."

~J.K. Rowling

* * *

**Chapter 4**

The world was reduced to a spinning whirl of green and blue and brown. I heard shouts and clangs of metal against metal.

I hit the ground with a grunt. The dirt dug into my skin. I looked up, dazed, to see that five bandits had surrounded the caravan. Sensei was holding off three of them on his own, the boys dancing a deadly salsa with their own opponents. I got up, shaky, pulling a kunai from my pouch. I may have hit my head. The world was tilted at a strange angle and I stumbled, frustration building as the fights ensued and I merely staggered along drunkenly. I realized the caravan was on its side and the little boys inside were crying. Growling, I tried to run, to jog, to do anything somewhat speedily. I hit the ground a few more times. Finally, I stood and tried to figure out how to be useful without moving.

The bandits had forgotten me, probably thought I was dead, blown to bits. I had been lucky. I had felt the tripwire and managed to leap just moments before the explosion went off. If I had been a second too late, I would be dead.

_Good plan,_ I admitted grudgingly. Take out the point guard and while the others were distracted, attack, overwhelming them with numbers. Too bad they'd forgotten to factor in the ninja part.

What happened next happened quickly. After, all I would remember for sure was a spray of blood and a gurgling scream.

A bandit had slipped past Kiba-sensei and Akamaru, racing toward Kazuho, timid little Kazuho who was standing his own against his opponent bravely. The kunai left my hand without a second thought. It pierced the back of the man's neck and he fell forward, screeching, hands flying up the kunai lodged in his throat. I had been aiming for his chest but the world was still a little off. A second kunai left my hand, taking down Kazuho's opponent, a lanky tall man with messy brown hair. It struck him square in the chest and I grimaced – I had been aiming for the shoulder so we could question him later.

Kazuho was left staring, face blank until his eyes met mine, my arm still outstretched from the throw. I saw his face change and I turned before I could see the horror in his gentle eyes. I watched as Sensei dispatched his opponents at last, a snarl seemingly permanently fixed to his face. He walked over to Atsushi, almost calmly, and killed the last man as well. A simple kunai to the chest. Easy. Simple. Quick. Everything a ninja's kill should be.

I stumbled forward, ignoring my teammates' attempts to communicate with me. I dropped to my knees beside the first man I had killed. He was still alive, just barely, and his eyes were glazing over when he looked at me.

Instead of declaring his undying hate for me, or cursing me, or acknowledging me as a worthy opponent, he smirked. "Konoha finally has its own monster," he rasped and then he died. There was no dying light. No last sigh. His chest simply didn't rise again. His body merely slackened, head rolling to the side.

I stared at him for a moment, blankly registering what he had said, what he had called me. Then, lip curled, I wrapped my hand around the handle of the kunai and pulled, drawing it from his throat. It was coated in his blood and I wiped it off on the ground beside me. I would clean it thoroughly later but for now, this would do. I stood, looking up at my team. They were all staring at me with varying degrees of shock on their faces. Kiba-sensei's mouth was pressed into a grim line. I felt myself just...click. My mind was filled with my list of priorities. It was slightly muddled but still functional. Right now, I was not a priority.

"How is the daimyo?" I asked, moving past them to check on the family we were guarding. They were all afraid but unhurt. We righted the caravan and then took some time to gather and burn the bodies. I watched the smoke crawling up into the sky, dissipating when it cleared the tree tops.

Kiba-sensei placed a gentle hand on my shoulder. "You did what you had to," he murmured.

I shrugged. "I know," I answered levelly. "They're just dead. It's no big deal."

I felt his stare boring into the side of my face and I turned to him, suddenly tired. "Death is a part of the shinobi's life, sensei."

"Yes, but –"

"Don't worry, sensei. I'm fine," I said and I walked away, back toward the caravan, where Atsushi and Kazuho were waiting.

That night, I slipped out of my sleeping bag and wandered off, distantly wary of other bandits. But the fear was detached; I felt as though I were looking at it from a distance and analyzing it like a mission report. I wasn't really _feeling_ it.

I finally crouched down beside a massive tree, settling myself between its roots. I listened to the night sounds of the forest and it _hit_ me. They had been people. People who had lived and felt and cried and laughed. They had worked hard and been lazy sometimes. They would never listen to the forest sounds again. Never return home. They had just…disappeared. The world wasn't any different without them. Schoolchildren would not learn about these people. Only me and my teammates and the daimyo's family would really be changed by this event. And any future people they had planned to rob. But that was impossible to know, of course. Now, my thoughts were just rambling.

I realized in a flash that they'd had mothers who would never see them again. And all I could see was Ayame's face if I didn't come home. I couldn't breathe. It felt as though someone had kicked me right in the chest. The night air suddenly seemed too cold and too hot all at once. I was choking. My hands were covered in blood. I heard the man's words and a vision of me appeared before me. I was coated in blood, eyes cold and uncaring. I didn't _care. _

I gasped as a hand touched my shoulder. I had curled into a ball, eyes shut tight, a stupid thing to do when you're alone at night protecting a daimyo. But then I relaxed, recognizing the familiar chakra signature.

"I just wanted to say thank you," Kazuho murmured, perching on a tree root near me. I sat up, rubbing at my eyes. The sky was beginning to lighten and I realized that I had been laying there for hours. I looked at my teammate, who watched me with serious lavender eyes.

"Thank you for helping me," he said again. "I know that man was coming towards me. I don't think I would've been able to handle two of them on my own."

"I-I killed them," I whispered.

Kazuho blinked and nodded, shifting so he was more comfortable.

"You did," he agreed quietly.

I hiccupped, trying to hold back the tears I knew were coming. "Kazuho-san," I choked out. "Am I a monster?"

Suddenly he was in front of me, looking into my eyes. "You're crying, Mitsuki-san," he answered gently. I looked at him, confused. Reaching a hand up, I realized my cheeks were wet. The tears had come. I clapped a hand over my mouth to stop myself from sobbing. It was all too _much_.

Kazuho did a strange thing then. He smiled, and put his hand on my head. "You're not a monster," he said quietly. "You're a shinobi. There's a difference."

I calmed down, running a wet hand through my hair. When had Kazuho grown up? When had he changed from a scared little kid to a genin? He was still a kid, still scared, but when I looked at him, I realized that his eyes were different. They had seen death. They had seen grief. They had seen survival as its grittiest and dirtiest.

I wiped the tears from my face impatiently, giving my teammate a small, shaky smile. "Thanks, Kazuho," I sighed, shoulders slumping.

The moment passed. He was Kazuho again, gentle Kazuho. He beamed at me and offered me a hand up. As I stood, suddenly Atsushi was beside me, hand on my shoulder. I looked at him and he offered me his widest grin.

"We got you," he said simply before leading me away. I was in the middle, my bodyguards flanking me, watching over me. As they seemed to do more often than I thought. My mind wandered, going over all the times they called for a break when they noticed me lagging. They held doors open for me. I was always in the middle and when I tried to change this, they refused to move. When we sparred, they fought all-out, with every ounce of strength they had, testing me, pushing me to my limits. We had gone from being a group to being a team. I started as I realized that I _cared_. I cared about my team. If one of them died, a piece of me would die as well. It was terrifying.

In a rare moment of affection, I took their hands in mine. They glanced at me, surprised, and I looked straight ahead, keeping my expression blank. I felt them exchange glances before they turned back to the trail, both smiling.

Kiba-sensei was waiting for us back at camp. His shoulders slumped when he saw our joined hands.

"Idiots," he muttered but he stopped there. He stood to wake the daimyo and his family. Akamaru licked my hand and trotted off to lick the little boys awake. I released my teammates and sucked in a deep breath. Another dawn, another day.

We got moving fairly quickly. Kiba-sensei stayed in front this time, and I could tell from the way he walked, half-crouched and teeth slightly bared, that he was nervous. While the daimyo and his family had gotten breakfast ready, he had gathered the team together, eyes narrow and serious.

"There was a shinobi with them. One skilled enough to use a scent-canceling technique even while masking their chakra," he'd said. I exchanged looks with Atsushi and Kazuho, both looking grim and anxious.

"We'll have to be careful," Kiba warned and all three of us nodded. This wasn't a joke. This might not even be a C rank anymore. This was life or death. We were shinobi.

I snapped back to the present, smiling as Atsushi patiently explained training to the curious boys. The sun was warm and bright and I could almost forget what had happened yesterday.

Almost.

I desperately wished my father was there.

A little after noon, the village came into sight. It was big and prosperous. People were everywhere, bargaining and trading and bickering and shouting. I winced at the noise. The daimyo looked much more at ease as we drew near his house. His servants came running out to greet him, their faces frantic.

"Master, we were worried!" one thin, tall man called, bowing before the daimyo. "We worried that your brother w-"

"Enough," the daimyo hissed and I noticed Kiba-sensei arch an eyebrow.

"No, let him continue," the jonin said smoothly, his look daring the daimyo to interrupt.

The servant glanced nervously at his master, who sighed, before turning to us and bowing low. "My master's brother is a shinobi, a missing-nin to be precise. He has been after my master for years now, after his wealth that is. We worried that he may attack while our master was away. It is good to see he had shinobi guarding him. These children must be very strong to be sent on this mission." The man smiled, a little stupidly, and looked up at his master eagerly.

"I will have baths made for all of you," he practically sang before rushing towards the house, calling for his fellow servants along the way.

Kiba-sensei turned to the daimyo, who I was fairly sure was trembling.

"So," our sensei almost purred. "You didn't mention that in the mission description."

I sipped politely at my tea. We kneeled in an extravagantly decorated office with the daimyo, who was rubbing his temples vigorously. Kiba-sensei, ever the informal shinobi, leaned back on his hands, grinning his sharp, dangerous grin before gesturing for the daimyo to begin his story. I set the tea down as I listened.

"My brother was always an irresponsible child. My parents thought the discipline of the shinobi academy would help him, so they sent him away to live with my aunt and uncle. He returned for a visit a changed man, hard and cruel, and my parents were very sad to see what their second son had become. He grew jealous of my supposed good fortune and I awoke one night to him holding a kunai above my head. I barely moved out of the way in time. My father banished and disowned him and I have not seen him since. Those thugs in the forest, they were almost definitely my brother's companions. It is just like him to hide in the trees while others do his dirty work." The last sentence was almost spit out, a disgusted look on his face.

Kiba-sensei rubbed his face, sighing and groaning. "Why didn't you tell the whole truth?" he asked.

"I may look rich, but my expenses are rather limited right now. This was a very bad season, you must understand. My sons cost a lot of money, Kami help me, and taking out a B or A ranked mission simply was not possible."

I stared around at his office before turning to him, eyebrow arched, not quite believing him but not quite disbelieving him. He looked worn out, tired and sad. I wanted to be angry with him. I really did. I wanted to tell him how much danger he had put my teammates in, how I could lose them on a mission that wasn't supposed to be this life-threatening. _We aren't trained well enough for this_, I wanted to scream. _They could get hurt._

Kazuho pressed his hand to my shoulder and I sighed, realizing I had tensed and fixed the daimyo with my iciest, angriest glare. I tried to smooth my face, to wipe it clean of my frustration. I felt bad for him, really. The stress this must put him under.

"I need to confer with my team," Kiba-sensei said quietly and we followed him out. He sat us down in our shared room and looked each of us in the eye.

"Alright, I'll be sending a messenger hawk to Konoha today to let them know we need another team. We can offer a payment plan to the daimyo. Until then, we need to be very careful." He eyed us and his face softened at our wide, scared eyes.

"Don't worry whelps," he said, smirking. I felt something in me loosen at his usual self-confidence, his arrogance, his pride. "Kiba-sensei will protect his comrades no matter the cost."

The next morning, after my shift, I wandered into the backyard, catching Kazuho feeding birds from a simple wooden bench, cooing to them gently. I smiled. It was such a familiar, sweet sight. Just as Aniko would never stop being her, Kazuho would never stop being him. It was something I loved, something I savored about people. That no matter what, they did not change. Even shinobi.

I sat beside him, tossing seed to the birds and pouting when they flew away.

Kazuho laughed, grabbing more seed and showing me how to gently sift it through my fingers.

After I fed them for a little bit, watching their wings flap and listening to their coos and squawks, I leaned back, drawing my legs up so my chin rested on top of them.

"Kazuho," I said quietly. He glanced at me to show me he had heard. "How do you stay so…kind?"

He blinked and then smiled. "I believe this world still has good in it, Mitsuki-san. And I want to be a part of that good."

I nodded. I watched as he fed the birds, noting the way he smiled and sang softly under his breath. I watched his chest lift and fall, amazed suddenly by life. Amazed by this small kid who knew absolutely nothing of the world, and yet trusted it. I looked at his black tunic and long, dark green pants. I thought of Atsushi, with his wild hair and even wilder personality. And I thought of me, bitter and jaded and I wondered what had happened to make me this way. My parents weren't bitter people. Ayame especially was cheerful and good and sweet. It was just me. I thought of everything in a negative light.

Maybe that was why I had been placed on this team. Perhaps Iruka-sensei had seen that being with people who genuinely loved life would be good for me. I smiled at the thought of him putting so much care and effort into our team selections.

I glanced at Kazuho again, remembering the way he offered me his water during breaks and his hand when I fell. I thought of Atsushi, of the fierce protectiveness in his face and body when his "father" had spat those ugly words at me. I thought of Kiba-sensei, of the care in his eyes when he comforted me after my first kills.

They were my precious people. My team. My family. I would defend them at all costs.


End file.
